Can't Hurry Love

by Molly O'Keefe

  Celeste cupped the girl’s shoulders. “Everything is lovely, including you. I think we should be paying you extra for having to put up with some of our guests.”

  Caitlyn shrugged. “Trust me, compared to my other job, these women are pretty easy.”

  Caitlyn left the foyer and Celeste returned the safety pins to the drawer. Through the open doorway, she saw Gavin, who was holding a glass of tonic water, deep in conversation with the producer for that a.m. talk show. As if he could feel her looking at him, he glanced up and met her eyes, and the slow, sweet smile that crossed his face was the most erotic thing she’d experienced in a long, long time.

  The front door banged open and Celeste whirled around to see a big man wearing a white cowboy hat and a messy suit standing in the threshold of her spa.

  “Well, look at this here,” he said, his pale blue eyes wide. “I hardly recognize the place.”

  He was too loud, too big, and she knew people from the party would be glancing over.

  She smiled, slipping right into disaster-control mode, and slid out from behind her desk to shut the door behind him. The man’s eyes touched every part of her. Her silver hair, her bare shoulders and neck—revealed by the draped fabric of her plum dress. Her breasts. Her legs.

  His interest was unmistakable.

  “Well, you certainly class up the place, don’t you?” he asked, dropping his voice.

  Her smile was cold, practiced a million times over the years on men just like him. “This is a private party, sir. I think perhaps you might be in the wrong spot.”

  “Something sure as hell is wrong here, but it ain’t me.”

  “Celeste?” It was Gavin, standing at her back, her knight in a red silk tie. “Everything all right?”

  “Not really,” the man said, staring at Gavin in the knowing way of an ape sizing up another ape. “I could use a drink. You a waiter?”

  Gavin stepped forward, but Celeste put her hand out. “Perhaps, if you could just tell us who you are, and what you’re looking for here, we could sort this out.”

  “You are a cool one. I like that in a woman.” The man’s eyes explored the modest cleavage revealed by her dress as if he were a sherpa and lives depended on his knowledge of the terrain. Gavin all but growled behind her, which was sexy in one respect and utterly unnecessary in another.

  “Sir,” she snapped, and the man’s face, familiar somehow, lifted to hers.

  “I’m John Turnbull. And I’m looking for my nephew.”

  Victoria was having no luck finding Madelyn Cornish. Most women would go and hide in the bathroom after a run-in like that, but the women’s rooms were all empty. The dark corners of the back porch were also deserted.

  Great, she thought, throwing her hands up in the moonlight. Just great. A big break like this and her brother’s buddy ruins it.

  Not that she should blame him.

  Poor guy, he up and left, too—grabbed his coat and just walked out the door.

  Well, no sense in trying to find a woman who had no interest in being found. She turned, heading for the screen doors leading into the kitchen, only to find Eli standing there, his hands tucked into the pockets of his handsome black suit.

  Time lost its momentum and rolled to a stop.

  “I’ve never seen you in a suit,” she said, because it was the stupidest thing to say and about all she was capable of.

  “Bought it special.” His honesty was piercing and she ran her hand down the front of her dress, feeling for blood. “You look beautiful,” he whispered.

  “Thank you.”

  “You … ah …” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck. “You feel all right?” His green eyes looked sideways at her and she felt him drinking her in.

  Her laughter was a pained gust of air. “Are you asking if I’m pregnant?” His jaw tightened and he dropped his hand. “It’s only been three days. It’s a little early to tell.”

  He nodded as if he knew that, or as if he was gathering up speed to spit something out, and she braced herself, unsure of what was to come. “I want you to know, if you are pregnant, I want to be there. I mean, I want to be involved with the kid. A lot.”

  Tears stung her eyes. Of course he would, and why did he have to make it sound like he wanted nothing to do with her?

  Because you’re a coward, remember? A coward who won’t fight for him.

  The sliding glass door opened with a gasp and a whoosh and Ruby appeared behind Eli, her scarlet dress a splash of color in the night.

  “We’ve got a problem,” she said.

  “Madelyn?” Victoria asked, already moving forward.

  “No.” Ruby’s eyes fixed on Eli. “Your uncle is here.”

  Eli’s face went white in the moonlight, the bones of his skull pressing against his skin, making him look like a different man. Angry and worried. Worn down.

  And very, very much alone.

  “Eli—” Victoria held out a hand to him, but without looking at her, as if he knew she would be no help to him, he walked back into the house.

  She’d pushed him away that night in the greenhouse, too scared to hold on to him, too scared to try, too lost to even know how.

  That man had stood by her side for months now—he’d invested in her vision. Unleashed her inner deviant. Told her he loved her.

  And now he was going to go face the demons of his past headfirst—without her. He’d never had anyone fight for him. Stick up for him. Protect him. All the people that should have loved him had betrayed him.

  And the realization that she was just the latest person to let him down destroyed her. Shamed her right down to her core, where the pain changed her. Reorganized her fear and her worry and her doubts.

  All of those terrible things she’d gotten so used to, that had made her blind to the beauty around her, were pushed away by something so much stronger. Something so much bigger.

  The night reeled around her, shoved off its moorings for a moment, and when it settled, the world was new. Different.

  How stupid she’d been to think love was a choice! As if she could deny it and it would go away. Watching him walk away from her had cracked her right down the middle. All of her compartments had burst.

  And she was awash, flooded, overrun with love.

  I love him.

  And it wasn’t the love she’d had for Joel; it wasn’t weak and scary. It didn’t make less of her. It made more of her. It made everything she felt for Eli—the gratitude and the worry, the lust and the desire to protect—into something noble. Into something beautiful.

  In the vacuum he left behind, she felt the different parts of herself come together as something new. Her past, her present, the person she wanted to be—they no longer existed in isolation or conflict.

  She could be scared and brave and worried and confident and grateful and generous—because he loved her for who she was.

  No part of her was shameful. Least of all her love for him.

  She had built this place. It had taken courage and grit and strength, and it had taken love. From Celeste and Ruby and Eli. And those people were counting on her, just as she counted on them. It was circular and right. She was blessed by the people in her life and she’d … she’d let her fear rob her of too much to let it take that, too.

  And right now, the man she loved needed help. Needed someone by his side. And she might be too late, but she wasn’t going to let him go without a fight.

  Without a second thought she followed her heart, and her man, inside.

  Eli followed his uncle’s magnetic pull into the front foyer, where a small crowd had gathered. Eli didn’t know what he expected to feel or think upon seeing his uncle after all this time, after all that had happened to him.

  But at the sight of that big white hat he felt like an eight-year-old boy who needed help. And the only man who had given it to him was his uncle.

  “Look here.” John’s big voice was too rough, too loud for the backdrop of cocktail party chatter. “There’s
my boy, looking fine, too. Eli, you clean up real nice.”

  Celeste and Gavin, who were clearly trying to keep the man contained, stepped back and he got a good look at his uncle. The man might be smiling, but his eyes were pure rattlesnake. Uncle John was pissed.

  Yeah, well, so am I, he reminded himself. He lied about paying for Dad’s hospital. For years he let me feel indebted to him for that.

  “You’ve got barbecue sauce on your collar,” he pointed out.

  That smile got hard real quick. “Drove up from Galveston and stopped at your place. Surprised you weren’t there.”

  “I’m here.” He held his arms out.

  “Yeah, I see that. Real comfortable in the home of the family that robbed us for generations.”

  Eli said nothing. Just stared at his uncle, who stared right back.

  Someone stepped up behind Eli. Victoria—he knew it by the way his skin reacted, the way he instinctively knew to step sideways, blocking her from Uncle John’s sight.

  But she stepped forward, right into the middle of things. “Is there a problem here?” she asked.

  “I got it, Tori—”

  “Tori!” Uncle John boomed. More people gathered into the foyer. Renee, Bill, their merry gang of asshats.

  “Tell me what you’re doing here, Eli,” John asked, looking truly baffled. Truly heartbroken.

  “He’s an investor in the Crooked Creek Resort and Spa,” Victoria said, and Eli shut his eyes, swearing under his breath. Now she gets brave.

  “Investor? Eli, tell me she’s lying. Tell me you did not invest your money with Joel Schulman’s ex-wife. Hasn’t she ruined enough lives? Taken enough money?”

  “Yes,” Renee hissed, breaking her husband’s hold on her wrist. “She has. She has ruined everyone’s life.”

  Jesus Christ. Could this get any worse?

  chapter

  28

  Everyone was talking at once, a wild hum of noise. Eli was trying to get his uncle to leave. Celeste was trying to get both of them to stay.

  “How many lives do you have to ruin?” Renee hissed in Victoria’s ear, like a mosquito she couldn’t swat away. “I’m so glad I’m here to watch you get your due—”

  “Stop it!” Victoria cried, and the room fell silent as if she’d shot off a gun. “You,” she turned to Renee. “I’ve had enough of you and your viciousness. I am sorry my husband stole from you. I am sorry I cannot bleed enough to give you back what you lost, but I am done trying. I want you off my property by tomorrow morning.”

  “You’re kicking us out?”

  “I can’t do anything more for you, Renee. I’ve made my reparations—”

  “You’ve made nothing!” Renee cried. “You knew what he was doing—”

  Bill stepped forward and put his hands on Renee’s shoulders; she strained away, but he held on. “Enough, Renee,” he whispered. “We all knew. In hindsight …” He glanced around at the stricken faces of all of Victoria’s old friends, and the knowledge and guilt that was in their eyes. “We knew that Joel was up to something, and you’ve got to stop punishing Victoria. It wasn’t her fault.”

  Damn straight!

  “How can you say that?” Renee asked, turning burning eyes on her husband. “We lost everything …”

  “Not everything.” He touched her cheek, his smile full of apology and reproach. Renee, however, wasn’t buying it. She shook her head, her shoulders stiff, and finally Bill pulled her against his chest. After a moment he glanced up at Victoria and then Eli. “You’ve been wonderful to us. This place … what you’ve done here … it’s wonderful, and we’re sorry if we took away from any of that this week.”

  Renee buried her head in her husband’s suit jacket. Victoria glanced sideways at Eli, who only nodded once. His cowboy way of saying all was forgiven.

  “Thank you, Bill,” she whispered. Bill led Renee away and the rest of them scattered. Without their leader, they had lost their venom. With them out of the room, Victoria focused on Eli.

  “Well done,” he murmured, and she felt a wild, bright beam of hope.

  “Better late than never,” she said, attempting a smile.

  “Perhaps,” Celeste said, reaching for John’s arm, “we can give them a moment alone.” Celeste was the perfect hostess in any situation, even this one, for which there was no Miss Manners advice. Love for Celeste, who had to be the strangest mother figure a woman ever had, filled Victoria.

  “It’s okay, Celeste,” Victoria said. “Why don’t you go see to our other guests.”

  Celeste blinked, her mouth opened to protest.

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” Victoria said. “Not anymore. But I will always love you for trying.”

  Celeste glanced meaningfully at John, who was decidedly red around his too-tight collar. “I just want to help,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Then let me.” Victoria should have known Celeste wouldn’t relinquish control so easily.

  “Gavin?” Victoria said, and as if he’d been waiting for the chance to cart Celeste off someplace, Gavin read her mind.

  “I’m on it,” he said, and looking more like a Viking than he ever had, he grabbed Celeste’s hand and pulled her away, kicking open the door to the treatment rooms. John stared after them like his new lollipop had been stolen.

  “What’s happening here?” he asked.

  “I believe we’re being managed, Uncle John,” Eli said, crossing his arms over his chest and smiling as if he was enjoying the show.

  Amy stepped out of the hallway into the foyer, and Uncle John stiffened as if he’d seen a ghost. “Hello, John,” she said.

  “What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded, his face going red. He looked at Eli. “What is she doing here?”

  “She’s the architect,” Victoria said.

  “Victoria hired your mother?” John asked Eli. “And you invested in this circus? Christ, son, I would never have stayed in Galveston if I’d known you were going to lose your mind.”

  “Don’t insult him,” Victoria said, stepping closer to John, who pushed back his hat and laughed. “I’m serious. He’s not a joke. He’s a man, and a good one.”

  John looked at Eli. “You said Victoria was a mouse. A … a scarecrow. A pushover.”

  Eli shrugged. “Looks like I was wrong.”

  “Why didn’t you tell Eli that Amy was paying for his father’s care?” Victoria asked John.

  “Is that what she told you?” John asked, pointing a finger at Amy. “This woman left you—”

  “I know what she did,” Eli said. “Better than anyone. But you lied to me, Uncle John. Why?”

  “Because she oughta pay for something!” John cried.

  “I think she’s paid enough,” Victoria said.

  “What the hell do you know about anything?” John asked. She tried to resist the urge to duck behind Eli, because John was big and getting angrier by the second.

  “All of it,” Eli answered John’s question, standing beside Victoria without touching her. “Victoria knows everything, and she’s right.” Eli turned and nodded at Amy, who stood pale and stalwart against the backdrop of the party behind her. “My mom’s paid enough.”

  Amy’s eyes filled with tears but she didn’t say anything—just stood there, pulsing with emotion—and Victoria wasn’t sure she could love Eli any more than she did at this moment.

  “I never thought I’d see the day,” John said, all kinds of judgment in his voice, and Victoria wanted to take Eli’s hand to show him he wasn’t alone, but he stepped forward, out of her reach.

  “I never thought you’d lie to me, Uncle John. All these years you let me believe you were paying for Dad’s care and I felt so indebted to you. And all these years you knew where my mother was and you never bothered to tell me.”

  “I didn’t think you’d care.”

  “Well, I do.”

  The silence pounded in the foyer and Victoria stepped toward the door, her heels clicking loud aga
inst the stone tiles.

  “I think you should leave,” she said and opened the front door.

  John ignored her, staring daggers into Eli, and she wrapped her hand around his arm.

  John grabbed her fingers, so hard and quick that she gasped, more in surprise than pain. “And I think you should mind—”

  Eli, his jaw tight, his eyes murderous, shoved John out the door, following him over the transom as the older man tripped slightly.

  “You don’t put your hands on her,” Eli said, following his uncle across the porch as the older man stumbled backwards down the steps. “Ever.”

  “Eli, I only wanted this land for you. For your birthright,” John said from the bottom of the stairs, his face bleached with moonlight and regret.

  Eli nodded toward the full parking area. “Get in your truck and go on home. I’ll find you when I can stomach looking at you.”

  John seemed to know when he was beat, and he pulled his hat down low before turning and winding his way through the trucks to his own.

  “Thank you, Eli,” Amy said quietly from the door behind them.

  Eli turned—his shirt, teeth, and eyes bone white in the moonlight. So handsome that Victoria ached looking at him. He reached for Amy’s hand, gathering her fingers into his own like a bouquet. Amy gasped slightly, staring at their joined hands as if she’d stop believing it if she stopped seeing it.

  Finally, Amy laughed a little, gusty and girlish. Awkward, she patted Eli’s hand before dropping it and stepping back inside the house.

  “I’ll leave you two alone.” Amy quietly shut the door behind her, and then it was just Eli and Victoria standing in the moonlight.

  “He hurt you?” he asked, his hands in his pockets, his eyes watching the taillights on his uncle’s departing truck.

  She shook her head. This porch, this ranch had grown so familiar to her over the last few months. She knew the view from where she was standing better than she remembered what had been outside her penthouse window. But standing here with Eli, who wasn’t looking at her, made it all seem terrifyingly unfamiliar.

  What if I am too late? she wondered. What if he’s realized what a mistake it would be to love me?